26.2.11 – Farewell, fond memories and sincere sympathy, New Zealand

We left Dunedin in the dark, allowing plenty of time to encounter goodness knows what chaos in Christchurch.  In fact, we had no problems whatsoever. 

The car is automatic, as are most cars here.  This was a new departure for me, and at first I was inclined to panic when I had to manoeuvre, banging my foot on the brake pedal in search for the clutch and grabbing any lever available that might be a substitute for the gear stick.  Then I solved it!  If you can play air guitar, you can also use an air gear stick!  Thereafter I invented an imaginary clutch and stick, and on feeling the urge to change up or down, just used these.  Bill stopped laughing at this quite soon as the technique avoided me spread-eagling him on the dashboard at regular intervals.

It is almost embarrassing that our holiday is running completely to schedule when such death and devastation engulfs that beautiful city, so close at hand.  We have heard that Laurie and Mary have been evacuated from their much -loved house, as the cliffs into which it is built have become unstable.  The hire car lady – an effervescent and laughing New Zealander, drove us to the airport.  Opposite her depot is a mound of rubble which was once the bank.  She had helped try to rescue a lady crushed by debris, but found her dead.  Her colleague’s house is ruined.  Her firm is moving its headquarters to Auckland.  ‘People are really down.  We thought it was all over after September.  But we’ll get through it’, she says, and hugs us tight.  She described the airport over the last few days – a torrent of people and equipment arriving from all over the world to help.  13,000 local residents leaving.  Two large military planes offering free flights to Auckland for Christchurch ‘refugees’. We can see an obese dark grey American transport plane, still straddling the tarmac at the terminal.  Inside, everything seems much as normal.  But I notice one young woman, weeping and staring blankly ahead in abject misery and disbelief.  She looks as if she’s been crying for days.  She probably has.

What are our brief impressions of New Zealand?  They are of warm and welcoming relatives and friends, of a breathtakingly beautiful country of blue mountains, turquoise seas, rich green pastures.  Little wooden houses, with carved porticoes, many of which in Dunedin, looked as if they might have been built quite soon after the first Scots arrived.  Tall blue and white Agapanthus flowers, edging the roads, sometimes punctuated by Eucalyptus trees and Red Hot Poker plants.  Friendly people, beautiful cities.  But we will also never forget how the sunkissed and lovely Christchurch we roamed in so happily on Monday was gone forever by Tuesday.  In the airport, I came across a tiny glass ornament representing one of the little, flower covered trams from which we viewed the grey and white cathedral, the blossom laden Botanic Gardens, the quiet River Avon.  I bought it for Bill, and as we sat in the airport terminal, it was difficult to keep the tears back as we looked at it.